An East Wind
by cunning bird
Summary: John and Sherlock may have killed Moriarty, but they aren't done yet. Moran, the consulting criminals top sniper and now the leader of Moriarty's remaining web, is out for revenge and won't stop until he gets it. Oh, and he might be making a deal with some terrorists, and London will be their first target. Sequel to Reversal. Rated K for now, but will be raised later.
1. Prelude

**Ok, here is the prelude to the sequel. Sorry its so short, and I hope its good!**

**PRELUDE- Moran's POV**

I clenched my fists together as I watched that idiot shoot my boss. Sherlock Holmes.

It made my blood boil to think of him. I had tortured his friend, I had done everything that Moriarty told me to do, believing that Moriarty was telling the truth in saying they wouldn't get him. Wouldn't kill him.

And now I'm starring at his dead body as the two people I hate most walk away from it, smiling.

I guess this makes me the new leader, since I was second in command, and top sniper.

A evil smirk spread across my face as I turned away from the TV I was starring at, and walked out of the room to the command center.

John had taken out a good portion of our organization, but we still have some of our better criminals left.

Everyone turned to look at me as I walked in, not saying anything but silently acknowledging me as their leader. The news of Moriarty's death had spread fast.

"Get back to work." I ordered, and they did.

I could defiantly get used to this.

"You won't escape me this time, Mr. Holmes." I hissed as I sat down in what used to be Moriarty's chair, and started planning my little warning, swearing that I will finish the job for Moriarty.

That I will do a better job.

I couldn't stop the harsh chuckle that escaped my lips.

They would pay. Boy oh boy would they pay.

**I wasn't sure what to put! Lol. Updating will take awhile, just so you all know. I decided to try my hand at a sequel... Sorry the prelude is so short, under 300 words! Let me all know what you think so far...**

**cunning bird~**


	2. Chapter 1

**Okay! Here is the actual chapter. I think its good.. I dunno. Chapter two SHOULD come sometime this week, but it could take longer. **

**CHAPTER 1**

I stared down at the dead body. Mycroft had temporarily taken Sherlock somewhere for whatever reason, and so Lestrade had called me instead.

I agreed to come because I felt a bit bad for him. I could tell he hadn't gotten much sleep from his tone of voice. That and I was starting to get bored without Sherlock around.

Lestrade stood a few feet away, telling me what he knew of the dead man.

"His name is George Stuart Raddle, former officer at Scotland Yard. 65 years old. His sister called us when she found him laying here."

The man was laying face-down on the floor. He had obviously been sitting in the chair beforehand, though.

The first thing I noticed upon kneeling by his head was the smell of make up. I ran my finger across his neck, and it came away dusted with skin-colored make up which was easily hiding the bruises around his neck.

"Looks like he was strangled to death." I pointed out in a bored tone, but frowned when I opened his mouth.

There was a weird smell, one that I couldn't quite place my finger on.

"Any enemies?" I asked as I opened George's mouth to take a sample of his saliva.

Lestrade shook his head, "not that I know of. From what I've gathered, he was good at his job and well-liked."

I frowned again and glanced around the room.

My eyes rested on a little bottle with pills inside, and a glass of water near by.

"Do you have his medical records?" I questioned Lestrade, not even glancing at him as I made my way over to where the bottle rested on the coffee table.

"Yeah, in my office."

"Lets go to your office then." I replied as I snatched the bottle of pills on our way out.

**ooOOoo**

I sat in the chair across from Lestrade, flipping through a file. It was fairly short, thankfully.

He was healthy except for severe migraines he occasionally gets. That and he pulled the muscle in his left shoulder.

The pills were for the pain.

I sat back in my chair, and handed the file back to Lestrade, who was busy arguing with someone over the phone.

I starred at the name tag on his desk.

_**Greg Lestrade**_

I looked down at the closed file that had George's name on it.

_**George Stuart Raddle**_.

I found it funny that everything always included his middle name.

Normally it was just the first and last.

As I stared at the letters something started piecing together in my brain, the pieces clicking together.

I'm not sure what pieces they were, but I've learned to just trust my, in this case, brain instinct.

So i did, some part of my brain that I currently didn't have access to telling my hands what to do.

I quickly grabbed some paper, and wrote both names down.

_Coincidence? _I thought to myself a few minutes later, looking at my work. If you crossed out some letters, and rearranged the ones left, you got Greg Lestrade. I glanced up at the DI across from me, who was done with his conversation and currently running his fingers through his hair.

"Works at the yard, good at his job, well liked by everyone. Maybe not." I murmured as I looked at one of the pictures of George that was laying on the desk.

"Kinda looks like him too, if you look hard enough."

My eyes went from the picture, to Lestrade, who had paled slightly as he realized what I was talking about.

I had been muttering quietly to myself, but he had heard. I'm not sure if that is a good, or bad thing.

I bit my lip. Since he heard, he might as well know what I'm currently thinking.

"Don't take my word on it, but I think this might be a threat. Or a warning to someone." I stood up, and have him a apologetic look.

"I need to go look at the saliva and pills." I said before turning and walking out, texting Sherlock on the way.

**ooOOoo**

I carefully looked through the microscope, before slamming my fist down on the table, making Molly jump, several vials shake, and Sherlock look over at me with raised eyebrows.

"There is nothing here!" I nearly shouted.

I had been at it for about two hours after I had explained to Sherlock what had happened.

"Maybe theres nothing there?" Molly suggested, earning a glare from both me and Sherlock.

Just as Sherlock was about to say something, my phone rang from its position on the table.

Seeing it was Lestrade, I quickly answered it.

"Yeah?"

"John, theres been another one. Another murder. A bit different this time, though." his voice was tense.

"Where?" I asked, nodding at Molly and heading for the door, Sherlock already standing there holding it open for me.

There was a shout, and Lestrade suddenly ended the call.

I glared at the electronic device as if was Lestrade, before jogging out of the building, Sherlock right behind me.

As soon as we walked out I saw the flashing lights of several police cars.

Ah, so that's where they are.

Sherlock and I looked at each other, before running over.

Lestrade met us as soon as we reached the tape, tense. He said nothing, simply gestured for us to follow him.

He led us into what I assumed was a mostly unused building. It was so dark you could barely see, but Lestrade turned on a light eventually.

When we looked down, I realized we were standing in front of a dead body.

A dead body that looked very much like me. Unnervingly so.

I cleared my throat, "name?" I asked, not taking my eyes off the dead man.

"Doctor Jonathan Waterson." Lestrade replied after a brief hesitation.

"John Watson." I heard Sherlock mutter.

Sherlock suddenly bent down and pulled up the jumper and shirt. When the light was shined on the mans stomach, Lestrade gave a muttered exclamation of "oh gosh." I froze, and Sherlock gagged, a sound I never thought i would hear come from the consulting detective.

The reason for our reactions was the word SHERLOCK carved into the mans stomach, the exact place it was now scarred on mine, and almost just as crudely written as mine was when it was fresh.

I had to close my eyes, and put a hand over my nose.

The sight of it, and smell of blood brought back too many memories. Memories I tried very very hard to forget.

I had tried to delete them, but I couldn't. So they went in a locked cell attached to the basement. But that cell door had somehow cracked open just enough.

I felt a warm hand on my shoulder, and I opened my eyes to see Sherlock standing in front of me, bending down slightly so we were the same height. Concern was barely visible in his blue-green eyes.

"Are you okay?" he asked, voice gentle and calming.

I managed a weak smile, and nodded, slowly lowering my hand from my nose.

"Yeah, I'm good. More concerned about you." I replied, half teasing half serious.

His eyes darkened slightly at the small reminder of the body.

"I'll be fine." he said, voice surprisingly calm.

I said nothing, just closed my eyes and focused on the warmth of Sherlocks hand and the smell of pine and chemicals and the faint traces of mint, letting him chase away the dark memories, push them back into the cell where they belonged.

**Okay, so there was that... I will be starting chapter two in just a few minutes, just to let you all know. Non of my stories are beta'd, so all mistakes are my own. And just so everyone knows, the new break thingy is "ooOOoo" **

**cunning bird~ **


	3. Chapter 2

**Here is chapter 2! I'm not really as good at doing Sherlock's POV (most of the time), so I'm sorry if its horrible! Lol**

**CHAPTER 2- SHERLOCKS POV**

I looked over at Lestrade, and found him watching John, a faint look of shock on his face.

I looked back at the body, and walking over to the other side, saw blood soaking through the pants on his thigh.

There was no doubt in my mind what was carved there.

Someone had gone through a lot of trouble to make this person look the most like John as they could.

Glancing back over at my friend, I saw him shaking his head, almost as if to clear all the memories, before walking over and crouching next to the mans head.

He took a deep breath through his nose, before opening Jonathan's mouth and doing the same.

"Died the same way." he informed Lestrade, taking samples of the saliva.

I stood up, and looked over at John.

"Back to Barts?" John nodded.

"I wanna see if theres any connections." he said, before turning and walking away, purposely avoiding eye contact with Lestrade.

I quickly followed him.

**ooOOoo**

"Sherlock, do you see anything?" John questioned.

"Yes, I just don't know what it is I'm seeing." I replied.

I saw John nod out of the corner of my eye, "I know."

It was around six in the morning. Neither of us had been able to sleep last night.

My phone dinged with a new message, and without taking my eyes from the microscope, pulled it out of my pocket and handed it to John.

"It's Lestrade."

My head jerked up, "what does he say?"

"Theres been another one." John said, voice tense as he handed me my phone back, before grabbing his coat.

It wasn't too far, so we walked there.

Neither of us knew what to expect. When we got there, even Sally was tense and uneasy.

This time Lestrade didn't walk up and meet us, he instead waited by the road, which it what I felt was strange.

Murders, and the evidence for the murder, was usually inside.

As soon as we got closer to where he was standing, Lestrade stepped in front of John.

"I told just you to come, Sherlock." he said, voice tense.

My eyes narrowed slightly, both at the fact that John didn't tell me this and that Lestrade didn't want him there, "I don't see how it matters." I replied.

He sighed tiredly, "you'll see why." he said before stepping to the side.

I tensed and my eyes widened.

There, on the pavement, was me. Well, someone who looked like me anyway.

Blood covered his head and the pavement, making his curly black hair stick together.

His long coat was rumpled, and his scarf stained from the blood.

"No, Sherlock. No!" I heard John pleading, shaking his head.

I turned to look at him, and that's when I realized he was having a flashback. '_shit' _I couldn't help but think.

"John, its okay." I said, gripping his shoulders.

"No, let me through. He's me friend." John replied, trying to get by.

"John! Listen to me! It's not real, I'm right here!" I pleaded.

"Please. Sherlock!" he almost shouted the last part.

"John, snap out of it!" I was starting to get worried. Most everyone was watching us now, but I didn't care.

Slowly John's eyes started to focus, and they locked onto mine.

"Sherlock?" he whispered, before latching onto me tightly.

"It's okay John. I'm okay." I said softly, running my fingers through his hair.

After a few minutes, he finally pulled away, not even glancing at the body.

Lestrade opened his mouth to tell us about the dead man, but I shook my head.

It didn't take a name for me to know that it was supposed to be me. And a name wouldn't help John.

"Come on John. Lets go home." I said softly, silently following Lestrade when he offered to drive us home.

**ooOOoo**

I couldn't help but watch John, just slightly concerned. He had been spending the rest of the day in his chair, eyes closed, hands occasionally switching, and almost a look of pain on his face.

There was no doubt he was in his mind mansion, but I wondered what he was doing there so long.

It had never taken him this long to suppress memories, or build rooms. Not even me watching him threw off his concentration like it normally does.

Suddenly his eyes flew open with a small gasp. I searched his face, mentally cursing when I realized he had put on his emotionless mask. The one I often used.

John stood up, "I'm going to go for a walk." he said, voice still tense. With a frown I noticed he was limping, and that on his way out he grabbed his cane.

I suddenly jumped to my feet, picked up my violin, and walked to the window, watching John walk off.

I slowly started to play, the almost sad tunes of Moonlight Sonata filling the air.

**okay, so there was that. Chapter 3 is going to take a bit longer, just so you all know. I am like, really super busy with school right now. I'll try and get it done this weekend, but no promises! I tried to not end it at a cliff hanger ;). Ok, and just so you all know, the reason as to why I keep deleting and re-posting chapter 1 is because I have been having trouble with getting the editing working. I think I fixed the problem though, so last time was the last time, I promise!**

**cunning bird~**


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3 at last! Sorry for the wait. I really hope this chapter is worth it. Personally its not my favorite, but maybe you will all disagree :). Anyways, without further delay!**

**CHAPTER 3**

I took a deep breath of fresh London air.

I could hear Sherlock starting to play his violin, and briefly thought about going back, but instead kept walking. I needed to clear my had a bit, though I doubted that the walk would help any.

I don't really know where I went. I was too busy in my mind. It was like a civil war in there. Memories pushing against the defenses I had tried to set up, the cage I had tried to put them in. It was exhausting.

I was broken from my thoughts by my phone ringing. Frowning, I looked at it.

**_Withheld number._**

Ah, it must be Mycroft then. Though what in the world he would want this time is beyond me.

"What do you want now?" I questioned in a bored tone.

"Johnny boy! It's so good to hear your voice!" I froze, and for a moment forgot how to breathe.

"Who is this?" I finally asked, cursing my voice for wavering just a bit.

"Oh I'm sure you know who," the voice replied. I refused to give it a name, because I knew _he_ wasn't alive. Couldn't be. I had watched Sherlock shoot him, stared at his dead, bleeding body.

"I just wanted to let you know that you and Sherly aren't safe forever. I am always watching you." I then noticed how a camera turned so it was watching me.

"See you in a little bit!" the voice said, before ending the call.

I stood there for a few seconds, frozen by shock and (maybe just a bit) fear, before I broke out into a run. When i reached the edge of the park I stopped, realizing how i must look. So, instead i walked quickly, shoulders squared and expression blank, the only coherent thought going through my head was _'no'_.

I would rather die then let him get to me again. So, naturally, without hardly thinking about it, I made my way to Baker Street.

Or rather, Sherlock.

As soon as I walked through the door i let the mask fall, and it was all i could do not to lean against the door and curl up. After a few moments of gathering myself semi-together I realized someone else was there. The fact that i heard Sherlock practically yell helped a bit

It didn't, however, help my sudden fear. But, with all the strength I had left, I carefully put the mask back up.

The call had broken the last of my defenses, and now all the memories, the pain, the _hurt _swirled around freely in my head, and I just didn't have the strength to fight it anymore. But, if i tried hard enough, I could keep myself from having a complete breakdown.

Hesitantly, and with almost trembling steps, I walked up the stairs and entered the room, only to see Mycroft and Sherlock glaring at each other. The anger in Mycroft's eyes and the irritation in Sherlocks was enough to make me flinch, and I mentally cursed myself. I should not be afraid of my best friend.

Or best friends brother, though that was a more legit fear.

Sherlock then became aware of my presence, and looked over at me. In less then a second the irritation drained out of his face to be replaced by worry.

He stood up, but too quickly, and I flinched again, subconsciously taking a small step backwards. I hated quick movements in the Place, it meant pain. It meant nightmares. It meant every form of torture Moriarty would let them do.

Hurt flashed across his across his face, and guilt stabbed me, but I shook it off after a moment. I couldn't help it, it was pure instinct. It's not like I choose to be terrified, or tortured.

Mycroft stood as well, but there was a different look in his eyes, almost bridging on predatory as they rested on me, but I forced myself to shake the thought away.

It must just be my imagination. But that would mean the fact that he seemed a bit more muscular, and just a hair bulkier and shorter would be my imagination too. I almost laughed. This whole thing must really be getting to me.

Mycroft nodded to Sherlock, "I'll be leaving now. You and John seem to have some things to talk about," he said, before turning to me and giving me a smile that sent small shivers down my back. He then started for the doorway, which is where I had been standing.

I quickly moved away from it, making sure to not turn my back towards him, and nodded once in his direction.

Subconsciously I had started making my way for Sherlock.

Mycroft smiled again at me, his eyes momentarily scanning me before he left.

As soon as he was gone I practically leaped for Sherlock. He let me latch onto him for a bit before he gently pulled away, gripping me by the shoulders.

"What happened, John?" He asked, voice soft. I shivered as I remembered it, but forced myself to calm down a bit and speak.

When I had finished he pulled me back into a embrace, and I rested my head over his heart, listening to it beating and breathing in Sherlocks scent.

It wasn't much, mostly chemicals and hints of peppermint, but my brain had long since associated that smell with Sherlock, and safety. Or rather, right after he saved me from Moriarty and whoever was doing the actual torture.

I shuddered as the memories made their way to the front of their mind, one-by-one flashing before my eyes.

"Facts, John," I heard him say, and focused on his voice instead.

"Facts?"

"Yes, focus on the facts. What are the facts in this?"

There was a pause as I leaned back a bit, "he isn't alive. I saw you shoot him. So, someone must have figured out a way to impersonate him to give me a emotional breakdown." I felt myself relaxing. '_Not real. Of course its not real'_

I must have been saying that out-loud because I heard Sherlock say "of course its not real John."

A wave of disgust suddenly hit me.

"I hate it Sherlock. He's gone, and he still has control over me," I hissed, and felt him tighten his grip on me.

"It's not your fault." He murmured.

He stared to pull away, and panic swelled up in my chest. I must have somehow showed it, because he immediately stopped moving.

"I am just going to make tea," he assured me, and I relaxed a bit again and nodded. As Sherlock made tea, I curled up on the couch, watching his every move carefully.

When he at last returned, I uncurled myself and moved closer to Sherlock, clutching the warm cup of tea in my hand. I hadn't realized how much damage Moriarty had done to me until then, and how much longer the road to recovery would be.

Just then Sherlock's phone started ringing, and he groaned. "What on earth could it be now?" He wondered out loud as he picked it up and answered it.

"What do you want now? You were just here, you know."

There was a few seconds of silence before I heard Mycroft's reply.

"I never came over, Sherlock." We both froze, and I felt myself tense up.

"Yes you were Mycroft. You stopped by, and we talked for a bit before you started asking questions... about John," his face looked surprised, as if shocked at his own stupidity.

"Questions you should have known the answered to," he finished after a pause.

"I'm on my way Sherlock. Just.. stay safe," Mycroft replied, voice tense, before ending the call.

I felt Sherlocks arm wrap about me as he kept repeating "I'm sorry. I'm sorry" over and over, but I never was sure what he was so sorry about. Even a genius cant know everything all the time.

*******MORANS POV**

I chuckled at John's reaction. He's so cute when he gets all ruffled up, and how he put on that soldier act...!

It wasn't real, of course. I had found a way to turn my voice into Jim's, and took advantage of it. It was so much more fun then I had thought it would be.

I stood up, and turned off my laptop before slipping it into the open case one of my minions had, waiting for the last required item. Time to go out and do a little field work of my own, maybe even catch their attention for awhile.

I have a few more plans for them. Warnings, so to speak, before I actually come to the ending. The _grand_ finale.

I gave a smile to the minion-lady who opened the door for me before walking out into the main Headquarters. Once there, I waved over a group of my minions that were waiting for me.

We have work to do, and, as much as I am loathe to admit it, this isn't a one-man job. You see, unlike Jim Moriarty, I don't mind getting my hands dirty, something that hasn't changed with me becoming leader.

I couldn't keep back the chuckle that escaped my lips. And oh how dirty they would be when I get done with a certain Mr. Sherlock Holmes and Dr. John Watson.

**Hey everyone! Again, sooo sorry about the wait! It took longer then I thought, as I was having a hard time finding time to write this chapter, because a few things have come up and we have been pretty busy, but _hopefully_ I will be posting more regularly. But, since I have no idea what to do with the next chapter, who knows. Could be a long time again :/. Thanks for being so patient with me! Again, all my chapters are not beta'd, so all mistakes are my own. **

**cunning bird~**


	5. Chapter 4

**Alright everyone. I AM SO SORRY FOR THE DELAY! I have been working on my own book, and then life got in the way, and then a major writers block where I had absolutely no idea what to write next... I AM SO SORRY! Especially since I had this chapter written _last week_, but I totally forgot to post it, and then I had gotten busy this weekend... And I havent had time to edit this chapter, so if there are a lot of mistakes and stuff please don't be too harsh haha. I will go through and edit everything some other time, but I figured I would at least get this chapter posted for everyone who has been waiting... Again, SO SORRY! So, I'll just let you guys get to the chapter! Enjoy**

**CHAPTER 4- Sherlocks POV**

I paced restlessly. Mycroft was sitting in my chair, watching me, and John was on the couch watching Mycroft, caution and distrust in his eyes.

Mycroft has just finished telling us that when he had tried to get the security feed, right when the man came in and when he left it was all static, and they couldn't get anything.

If it wasn't Moriarty though, who could it be?

Just then Johns phone rang, and looking over I saw it was Lestrade. John quickly picked it up.

"Hello?" he said, his voice still just barely shaky.

I didn't hear what Lestrade said, but immediately John jumped up and stared for the door, "I'll be there," he promised before slipping his phone back in his pocket and grabbing his coat.

"There's been another one, you two coming?"

I nodded, "of course," I replied as I grabbed my own coat.

Mycroft stood as well, "I have no meetings this afternoon, so I think I will accompany you as well."  
>John nodded, "alright," he said, turning and leading the way out, Mycroft lagging behind a bit, quickly texting on his phone.<p>

When we got there a black car was waiting, and Mycroft approached it.

"I will follow you," he said as he got in, the driver starting off as soon as he got in the car.

John shrugged, before stopping a cabbie. As soon as we were in John gave the address before leaning back in his seat, and closing his eyes.

Sighing, I turned to look out the window, which is when I spotted him. My eyes widened, and I gripped the door handle so tight my hand was shaking.

Moriarty. I swear I saw him, his eyes locked on mine, smiling.

"Sherlock? Everything alright?" I heard John ask, breaking through my temporary shock and fear.

I then realized I had reached over and gripped his arm, breaking him from his own thoughts. I released him from my grip, and let go of the door before managing a smile and nod.

"Perfectly fine, John," I replied. I could tell he didn't believe me, but he let the subject drop, and for that I was thankful.

He didn't need to know.

He didn't need to get more worried and worked up than he already was.

Hardly ten minutes later we arrived at the crime scene, and I breathed out a sigh of relief before carefully masking it, and stepping out of the cab, leaving John to pay.

I walked quickly, wanting to see the body before John. I glanced back at the road, but didn't see Mycrofts car anywhere. Shaking my head, and my mild concern, I focused on the crime scene, barely keeping in my gasp of surprise when I saw the body.

******** 3****rd**** person, Mycroft**

"Follow the cab to the crime scene," Mycroft ordered the drive as he got in the car.

"Sorry, but I can't do that Mister Holmes," said the driver as he started forward.

"And why not?" Mycroft cooly asked, hand tightening its grip on the umbrella, which was in reality a sword in disguise.

"I wouldn't do that, Mister Holmes. The boss is quite... Nasty, sometimes, and you wouldn't be very well off if you killed me and he found out," the driver warned.

Mycroft leaned back in the seat, and eyed the driver, but that didn't do much, because by all appearences he seemed to be just a simple driver, no weapons as far as Mycroft could tell, and he didn't seem particularly strong either.

"Who is your boss?"

He laughed, "nice try, Mister Holmes. But your brother and his friend will be meeting him shortly. As for you.. Well, you'll see in a bit here," he said, a oily grin on his face.

Mycroft refused to let fear sneak up, and so he resorted to calmly looking out the window, recognizing the scenery as they made their way for the Diognese club.

When they arrived, the two briskly walked up to Mycrofts office, where he came face to face with his double.

"Hello there, _Mycroft_ Holmes. What a pleasure to finally meet you, face to face."

*******Johns POV**

"Name?" I asked, tensely. Lestrade sighed, "Mrs. Hundstole. Widow, mother of two. Both are away, one on vacation to America and the other is in the army," the Detective Inspector replied.

I took a deep breath and nodded, quickly looking over the body before taking skin samples, and some samples from inside the mouth. Quickly I put on some gloves before rubbing the neck just a bit, but enough for some of the makeup to come off.

"Died the same way, I think," I said, before turning the body over.

Where there was a stab wound to her heart.

"So either she died like this and the bruises were from afterwards, or the opposite," Sherlock said, body tense.

I nodded, "I need to go and look over these samples, coming?" I asked, turning to Sherlock.

Sherlock nodded, "alright," he said, turning to go with me when I suddenly stopped.

No... It couldn't be. Its impossible. Theres no way...

"John?"

I shook myself, and looked up at Sherlock.

"Yeah?"

"Everything fine? You froze up for a second."

I nodded, "everythings fine. Lets go," I said, walking off again, Sherlock walking a bit in the lead.

Theres no need to tell him, it was probably just my imagination. All the stress lately, after the phone call, and Mycroft look-alike... Actually, speaking of Mycroft...

"Sherlock? What happened to Mycroft? I thought he was going to come along," I questioned as we sat down in the cab.

"He was," Sherlock said with a nod.

Just then Sherlock got a text, and quickly we both read it.

_I apologize, something came up that required my immediate attention. I assume the crime scene is taken care of? MH-_

Sherlock frowned a bit before quickly typing a reply.

"Somethings wrong," I said, also frowning.

Sherlock nodded, "with everything thats just happened, he would have told us before if something had come up."

I nodded, "I know."

Sherlock sighed, "lets just focus on the case for now," he said and I nodded.

The rest of the ride was in silence, a tension in the air that had both of us on edge.

**Alright, so I hope that wasn't **_**too**_** awful. Again, reviews are nice :). And I wanted to give a special, giant THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU to detectivejigsaw, who has helped me so much with getting inspiration fo this chapter, and a little bit of the next chapter. (I might be needing your help again.. haha). No promises on the next chapters release date, because we are in the middle of moving, and Ima gonna be starting a new school and getting settled in... so yeah, no promises haha. But I will _try _and get it sooner. **

**Thanks for being so patient with me. Don't worry, I haven't forgotten about you guys or this story!**

**cunning bird~**


	6. Chapter 5

**CHAPTER 5**

**Sorry everyone for the longish delay! At least it wasn****'t as long as before, right? And, now that I'm being homeschooled (I wanted to, and my parents said that they were okay with it, so yeah) I will have more time to work on this! Yay! Anyways, without further delay...**

**CHAPTER 5- Sherlock's POV**

I zoomed in on the saliva examples, trying to figure out what I was looking at. John was over researching, and I hoped he was making progress because that was our last chance. This didn't resemble anything I've ever seen before.

Finally, I heard the printing going, and footsteps as John approached. I looked up at him hopefully, and was curious when I noticed he was smiling.

"I found something that I'm pretty sure is a match," he said as he walked past me and to the printer where he snatched up a couple pages that had just finished printing and walked back over to me.

"It's called oleander. Its a flower with these purple-pink petals. All parts of it are poisonous, and humans and dogs are particularly sensitive to it. It says its a common plant but a rare poison, and very few people die from it. But, it matches what we have found in their saliva, and it would explain why we couldn't identify it," he said.

I looked over the picture carefully before looking back in the microscope.

As far as I could tell, it was a match.

"Symptoms include blurred vision, diarrhea with or without blood, loss of appetite, abdominal pain, irregular heart beat, dizziness, headache, weakness. The list goes on."

I turned to him, "lets go to Lestrade. I'm sure he has the numbers of the people who would have been around the victims before their death."

John nodded, "alright," he agreed, stuffing the two pages of paper in his pocket.

**ooOOoo **

I scratched off another number, which was thankfully the last one on the list. Everyone we called had said one of two things, either they hadn't talked to the victim before death or they listed one or more symptoms that matched.

I sighed, and looked over at John, who was leaning against the wall, a distant look on his face.

"Well, I think its safe to say we have the right poison," I pointed out as I stood up.

John sighed and nodded, a relieved look on his face. I knew he was tired. Out of the corner of my eye I noticed John glance at his phone before hurrying after me.

"Waiting for a text?"

John hesitated, "kind of. I'm worried about Mycroft. He hasn't texted us yet."

I nodded, but didn't reply. I was worried about him too.

When we got back to Baker Street, I immediately noticed that the ring was straight. That wasn't right. I know Mrs. Hudson left it like it was, and we rarely had anyone else coming in.

I quietly opened the door and looked around. I noticed something on the stairs, and walking closer I realized that it was blood. And, looking at the other stairs and the floor I noticed there was more. I heard John approach, and silently pointed to it.

He nodded, and gently pushed past me to take the lead while I stayed behind, looking to see how much blood was spilled.

I did noticed that some of it was smeared, as if someone had tried to wipe most of it away.

When he opened the door I saw him freeze, and whisper something that I didn't quite catch. Curious now, I quickly walked the remaining few stairs up, and, looking over Johns shoulder, I froze at the sight that met me. It was one I never expected to see, not ever.

And it was one that I never wanted to see again.

**ooOOoo Johns POV**

"Bloody hell," I whispered when I opened the door, frozen in shock, only being shaken from my daze when Sherlock shoved past me and rushed to the couch.

Inside was Mycroft. A bloody, weak, possibly unconscious Mycroft.

Shaking my head to clear my thoughts, I ran upstairs to my room, where I kept my medical kit.

When I was back downstairs and next to Mycroft again, I noticed that his shirt was shredded in a all too familiar way, but not in a way that was very noticeable because of the blood. Although, it was in surprisingly good condition.

They must have removed his shirt for most of it.

As I opened my bag, I glanced briefly up at Sherlock.

"I'm going to need some wet towels."

He hesitated, and I knew he wanted to stay with his brother, but when he noticed the look on my face he nodded and left to go get it.

I needed to get started on treating him as quickly as possible, I couldn't be doing everything. And besides that, I wanted to briefly assess the damage without Sherlock hovering.

Quickly I tore his shirt open, and froze.

Long gashes crisscrossed his chest and stomach in a too familiar way, and before I knew it the walls were closing it, and it wasn't 221B anymore, it was a dark cold cell, and the only sound was the sound of a whip hitting flesh.

My flesh.

I was only jerked out of my thoughts when I felt someone touch my shoulder, and it about gave me a heart attack. I jumped up and spun around, only to find Sherlock standing there, holding a couple towels in one hand, gaze locked on his brother.

I winced in sympathy, before silently taking the towels and starting on getting the blood off.

We both looked up in surprised when Mycroft cried out in pain as I accidentally pressed a little bit too hard on one of the wounds.

'_Well, at least he isn't unconscious or dead'_ I thought to myself as I continued cleaning the wounds.

After that, I got out my alcohol and started cleaning them, followed by bandaging them up. Looking up, I noticed Mycroft had opened his eyes and was watching me, a small amount of fear, and a large amount of pain in his expression.

"Sherlock and I are going to turn you over, alright?" I asked him when I finished, keeping my voice soft.

He nodded, and with Sherlock and I each lifting a part of him up, we were able to successfully turn him over.

But something was different about his back. There was a lot of blood, but there weren't very many whip marks as far as I could tell.

My heart sunk as I realized what had probably happened, and as I started cleaning around the middle of his back, my fears were confirmed.

"Sherlock, I need another towel," I said, though I was finding it hard to speak right at this moment.

Without a word Sherlock quickly went to the bathroom, returning a few seconds later.

Taking a deep breath, I started on his back again. A few minutes later, and I wanted to puke.

Though I could tell Sherlock's thoughts were more on murdering someone.

Because in his back were the words, _ICE MAN_ written. Not too deep, but deep enough. And they were written fairly crudely as well.

Forcing myself to focus, I finished up and Sherlock helped me turn him over.

I had already come to a conclusion that I knew they wouldn't like. I didn't like it myself.

Before I could speak, I noticed Mycroft open his mouth.

"I'm... Sorry," I heard him whisper, voice hoarse. And I did _not_ want to think about why his voice was hoarse.

I smiled weakly, " its alright, you can't help it. I'll survive," I replied, before taking a deep breath.

"You need to go to a hospital, Myc."

Mycroft's eyes widened, and Sherlock stiffened.

"No," Sherlock said, his voice practically a growl, while Mycroft shook his head,

"I don't like it any more than you do, but you have at least two broken or bruised ribs, possibly a broken wrist and concussion, and who knows what else. As much as I wish I did, I don't have everything we need here."

Neither Mycroft or Sherlock said anything for awhile, but eventually Sherlock spoke up.

"John has a point."

Mycroft sighed, and with a resigned look on his face nodded.  
>"Alright" he agreed.<p>

Sherlock then stood up and called the hospital while I stayed with Mycroft, both of us silently watching each other, a understanding between us.

Because I understand more than anyone what he went through. How it felt. How he feels now.

I only moved when the paramedics came to take him to the hospital.

Sherlock looked from me to Mycroft, and finally I rolled my eyes and gave him a little shove.

"You go with them, I'll follow in a cab," I said, and he nodded before quickly running after them and climbing into the ambulance with his injured brother, me following in a cab.

I clinched my fists, a sudden fury coming over me.

They had gone too far this time, and I will personally make sure they pay for it. All of them. Right now, simply killing them seemed almost too generous.

**Yes? No? I hope it was good! I might have written a tiny bit OOC, but oh well haha. I just edited it before posting, fixing some minor mistakes, but if any of you see any room for improvement (anything that I should take out, add, spelling/puncuation mistakes, etc), let me know and I'll fix it, alright? As I mentioned before I am now homeschooled, and so I will (hopefully) have more time to work on this! So I'm thinking a new post in a couple days, next Wednesday at the most. The story is picking up pace, which always gets me writing because its easier to do haha. And again, a special special special thanks to my friend, detectivejigsaw, who has helped me A LOT with this story. **

**Its a bit longer than a lot of the other ones, so yay for that I suppose. Oh, and I suppose I havent been doing this, but of course disclaimer, I do not own any of the characters in Sherlock. If I did, there would be a little different of a plot... *grins*. **

**Anyways, thanks for being patient with me! I'll get on the next chapter a little later today. Let me know how it was...**

**cunning bird~~**


	7. Chapter 6

**Ok everyone, here is the next chapter. I will warn you in advance that there is probably some more editing I can do to it, but I decided that I would just post it anyways... haha. Probably not the best thing I've done, but whatever lol. **

**CHAPTER 6- Sherlock****'s POV**

I paced the waiting room restlessly. I wasn't allowed to go back yet, and John still hadn't arrived. I glanced back at the doors, trying to force myself not to worry but finding that hard to do. After this attack, it seemed like no one was safe, and I knew they were after John and me.

A wave of relief rushed over me when I saw him walk through the doors and make his way over to me.

Neither of us said anything, me too worried and John angry. There wasn't very much to say anyways, until he looked around and a small, humorous smile appeared on his face.

"Isn't this familiar," he said softly, and I eyed him briefly.

"You mean when you were injured or I overdosed?"

He was silent for a moment, "both, I suppose."

Silence fell between us again, until a doctor walked through the doors and over to us.

"Mr. Holmes is asleep, but you can come in now."

We both breathed out a sigh of relief at that, and quickly followed the Doctor back, and I couldn't help but notice that it happened to be the same room that John was in all that time ago.

The Doctor gave us a small smile, "I'll leave you two alone now," she said softly before walking out and closing the door gently behind her.

The only sound after that was the steady beeping from the heart monitor, me taking the seat by Mycroft's bed and John leaning against the wall even though there was a chair only a few feet away, as if he was keeping guard.

It seemed like a few seconds when another doctor entered, though it was probably closer to a hour.

"Mr. Holmes? Can I speak with you?" he questioned, and I noticed him holding a chart in his hand that was no doubt about my brother.

I nodded and stood, making a motion for John to follow.

"Alone," he added, glancing to John. I glanced to John, who had stiffened and was now carefully eyeing the doctor.

I sighed and turned back to the doctor and nodded, "alright," I agreed, following him out and shutting the door behind me.

I noticed a nurse walking towards us but I ignored him, instead focusing on the doctor.

"So? What is it?" I asked impatiently, already eager to get back to my brother.

The doctor smiled, which make me slightly uneasy. Why was he smiling? Because it wasn't the 'good news, your brother is fine!' smile. It was more of a... predatory smile, almost.

"That was easier than I expected," he commented.

I eyed him warily, even more cautious now. "What do you mean?"

He pouted, "you mean you don't recognize me? I'm wounded!"

Suddenly I felt someone grab me from behind and shove something into my face before I could react. I struggled, but I could already feel myself starting to slip off due to whatever drug they had put on it.

"I'll see you later, Sherlock," he said, and shortly afterwards I passed out.

*******Mycroft's POV**

Slowly I felt myself waking up, and the first thing I felt was pain.

My head felt like someone was pounding on it with a hammer from the inside, and my whole body ached.

I heard beeping, and for a moment panic swelled up in me. Where was I? There was nothing that beeped in 221B. But then I remembered that John had talked me to coming to the hospital.

Slowly I opened my eyes one at a time, and glancing to the side I saw John leaning against the wall, eyes closed, and I breathed out a sigh of relief.

He must have heard it, because immediately afterwards his eyes flew open and locked onto my face.

He quickly walked over, a relieved look on his face.

"How are you feeling?"

I raised a eyebrow, "take a guess," I replied.

He grinned a little at that, "so not too good, I assume."

"Not at all."

He shrugged, "at least they didn't try that drug on you. I would have taken a beating any day over that drug," and it suddenly confused and amazed me how casually he spoke of that time.

But, carefully watching his face, I realized it was a act. It was his shield. The wounds were still as fresh as if he was rescued yesterday.

Glancing around, I noticed someone was missing.

"Where's Sherlock?" I had thought he would be here. I honestly couldn't think of a reason for why he wouldn't be here.

"Some doctor wanted to talk to him alone, so they went outside. But, now that I think about it, he should have been back by now," John replied, a slightly troubled look on his face.

My eyes widened.

"Oh no," I breathed.

"What? What happened Mycroft? What's going on?"

I could hear the panic creeping into his voice and expression, and wished that what I had to say wouldn't add to it.

"I overheard them talking once, when they thought I couldn't hear. I guess I was being used as a warning for the both of you. I only heard bits and pieces, but from what I heard they were going to get Sherlock. They said something about 'seeing what it took to get him to scream', if I heard correctly. But they could have been talking about me or you as well."

I could see the panic quickly giving way to anger, and that made me nervous.

I knew that John was safe, that John wouldn't hurt me. But when you see someone torturing you and they're _happy_, its understandable to get nervous when someone looks angry.

John noticed, and I could see the guilt in his expression.

"I'm sorry," he apologized. I shook my head, "don't be. You weren't the one who did this," I replied.

It was silent for a moment as John thought until he stood up and starting pacing.

"I need to find him. But there's no data. No clues," he said, running his fingers through his hair.

"Well, you _were_ a tracker, John," I pointer out, and he looked at me, a bit of confusion in his expression.

"After the Fall, remember? You went undercover, tracked down the Web, sometimes with only one piece of information to go on. If anyone can do it, I'm sure you can," He nodded, and took a few deep breathes, eyes closed in concentration.

He growled a bit in frustration a few minutes later, and I was glad he didn't notice me wince at the noise before he opened his eyes again.

"At least before I actually had something to go on," he said, his voice sounding almost defeated as he sat down.

I sighed, "I'm sure you'll find something," I said as I closed my eyes and relaxed. All of this has worn me out (as if I had much energy in the first place), but I tensed as I heard John stand up.

"Where are you going?"

"Just to stand over here," he said, and I'm sure he meant his previous position before I woke up, leaning against the wall.

I couldn't imagine how that could be comfortable, or figure out why he stood there, but I didn't really care that much as long as he stayed.

I honestly hated how needy that this made me, but I didn't have a choice in it.

The 'ice man' was just a wall, because emotions meant being vulnerable to everything. It meant having a weakness. But so did being the ice man, because that meant people wanted to break you.

But right now, I was too tired to care. All I knew for sure was three things. John wouldn't leave, I would eventually get out of this stupid hospital, and we would find Sherlock. And right now, that was enough.

Of course, I forced myself to push away the reminder that they wanted John too. I wasn't ready to think of that yet.

**Alright, so I'm afraid I made Mycroft a bit more... feely. Lol. But I think that is what would happen anyways, because if you were like Mycroft, and you got tortured, how much of a 'ice man' would you be afterwards? Lol. Of course, he will get a little better at being a bit more like the old him when he recovers more. But he was just tortured like the day before, and so. You know. But I admit I have editing to do, so if its a bit OOC and just has some work bear with me please. I promise that it will get a little better. I think I will have a couple week break, just so you all know. So then I will get a few chapters written and edited. So it will be more polished up before I let you guys read it :). **

**Sorry again if it was awful and a bit OOC/touchy-feely for Mycroft. **

**Love, cunning bird~ 3**


	8. Chapter 7

**Alright everyone! Here is next chapter. I know I was supposed to have this posted awhile ago, but I kept getting distracted by my other story, and kept totally forgetting about this one, and then I got writers block... I finally finished it today though! It's only been edited once, and everything. And I don't really have a beta, so all mistakes are my own... thanks for being so patient with me! Hope its good!**

**CHAPTER 7- John****'s POV**

I resisted the urge to pace, instead settling on tapping my foot restlessly, my eyes locked on the door. It has been 24 hours since Sherlock went missing, and ever since I had been a wreck. Knowing what those men were capable of... I suppressed a shudder at the thought.

I glanced over at Mycroft, who was on his phone texting. I would have gone searching already except for two reasons. I was hesitant to leave him alone, and I had no idea on where to go. There were no clues. My only hope was that whoever was doing this was like Moriarty.

Someone who enjoyed the game too much to _not_ leave a clue.

I heard Mycroft sigh before he spoke. "Go find Sherlock."

My head jerked towards him in surprise. "What?"

"You heard me. I'm having some of my men come in here to take your place, since you apparently don't want to leave me alone. But I need _you_ to go find Sherlock."

I hesitated, as much as I wanted to go, "you're sure?"

Mycroft nodded. "Certainly. Now _go_," he ordered, and I was only too eager to comply. I nodded once, and quickly walked out of the room, practically running out of the hospital. But it was only when I was standing on the sidewalk that it really struck me I had no idea what to do. All I knew was that someone disguised as a doctor had come and said he wanted to talk to Sherlock alone, before drugging him and taking him God knows where.

So I did the first thing that came to my mind. I went to the park to think. Maybe I could think of some small detail that I had missed or something. As I walked I was broken from my thoughts by a voice.

"John?"  
>It was Anthea. I stopped and looked behind me, curious as to what she wanted. For the first time she wasn't on her Blackberry, which surprised me. I was starting to think her and that phone were in a very serious, committed relationship.<p>

"Yes? Has something happened to Myc?" I questioned, panic starting to rise. I couldn't have something happen to both of them at the same time.

She shook her head, "no. He told me to give you full access to his men, to security footage, and whatever else you may need," she responded.

That surprised me. Mycroft gave me full clearance? For everything? Despite my surprise I managed to nod.

"I've already taken the liberty of installing some things in 221B, as well as making sure that no one could in any way track anything back to your computer," she informed me as we walked to the now-familiar black car waiting for us.

"Alright," I managed to reply, already thinking of how much easier this made things, since I now wouldn't have to hack into everything like a criminal. As soon as we made it to the flat I told her to thank Mycroft before heading inside and going straight to my computer and quickly accessed the footage of when Sherlock had left to talk to the doctor.

To anyone who couldn't read lips, it was normal. I could, however, so I immediately knew something was up. I saw two nurses come up and grab him, holding a cloth to his face before dragging him down the hall. The 'doctor' stayed behind a few seconds though, smiling and waving at the camera before leaving. My hands clenched into fists on the table, wanting nothing more than to wipe that grin off his face.

I managed to find the camera across the road, but of course they edited that one out. So I couldn't see where they went. Going back to the hospital footage, I closely looked at the doctor. He was smiling. A predatory smile that I knew all too well. I shook my head, trying to force the memories back. That wouldn't do any good, I need to focus on finding Sherlock. But that didn't tell me much, except for that he was enjoying it.

Looking carefully I could pick out a few other tell-tale Moriarty features, but at the same time some features that seemed different from how I remember him. And he is not a person one easily forgets things about. I checked other footage, the only clue I had of where they had gone was when I found footage that was either static or edited out.

Using a map that was attached to the wall I was able to find a pattern. It wasn't much, but it was all I had. Standing up I shut down my computer and grabbed my coat before walking out and hailing a cab, which I took to St. Barts. I then started going where they went. Or at least where the trail they left went.

As I walked I constantly scanned my surroundings which is when I caught a glimpse of someone all too familiar across the street, but when I turned to look again they were gone.

I tensed, now more alert than before, trying to convince myself it was just nerves. That happened three more times. It finally got too much when he bumped into me, and I got a good look at his face, confirming my suspicions. It was Moriarty. I would know his sick face anywhere.

'_Oh God. Please no. This isn't happening. This _can't _be happening,'_ I thought to myself as he whispered "hello again, John. Miss me?"

I didn't run. I wouldn't give him, whoever he was, the satisfaction. It couldn't be him. I refused to let myself believe it. I was surprised I was still able to walk, with how tense my body was. The only sign of my nervousness was the brief falter in my step when he had whispered that. I constantly looked around, and I was pretty sure I would jump out of my skin if anyone touched me at this point, even if we just brushed shoulders.

There were no more incidents, but finally I hailed a cab and went home, too tired to continue much longer, and honestly couldn't help but wonder if I had just imagined it all, even though it seemed so real. I know how real hallucinations can be.

When I finally got back I noticed a envelope at the door, the only word on it being my name. I picked it up and went inside, only daring to open it when I was seated in my chair. Whatever I was expecting it wasn't what I got. I jumped up, the envelope and note falling to the ground, and ran to the bathroom, throwing up what little I had eaten that day.

It was a brief note, all in all. Only the dead man sign, a picture of Sherlock with blood on his face, looking like he was unconscious, and the words 'I'm watching you,' a smiley face after that.

'_well, at least its pretty safe to say I wasn't hallucinating,' _

**Alright, so I hope that was alright and not too awful! Thank you all for bearing with me. Just so you all know, I am going to take a break until beginning of December, maybe after, where I will focus on not only my other stories but where I want to go with this one, and maybe even get a couple written up and edited too. Thank you! And a happy (early) Thanksgiving!**

**cunning bird~**


	9. Hey, I'm ALive!

**Hey everyone! I LIVE! Please don't hate me? I know, I know, I haven't posted anything in like, what, almost two years or something? And I have a very good reason! I do! Basically, school. And then we moved. And then some personal issues came up, and then I just lost inspiration. And then BAM, out of nowhere a couple new fandoms came prancing along and come on you guys should know what _that's _like, so. I swear I'm going to finish this! I swear! And I'm going to try and update more regularly! But, I need to edit it. And then I'm going to finish it on AO3 first, so if you guys want the edited version and stuff, head on over there! But first I'm going to edit Reversal, but hopefully I'll get back into it within the week? Maybe. But my promises mean nothing now, I'm sure... Sorry! *frantically runs and hides***


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